


Don't Try This At Home

by Witchlight



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Face-Fucking, Feelings Jam, Hotdogging, Intercrural Sex, It's Caliborn okay?, Language, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexist Language, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, ages are not specified, caliborn has anger issues, caliborn is nice, caliborn is not made for this shit, depends how you look at it, handjob, ish, not really but he's not a bad guy, parental neglect, runaway dirk, sort of, trucker caliborn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:22:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchlight/pseuds/Witchlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Caliborn plays the Good Samaritan (for once in his life) and saves a half frozen kid off the side of the road before reaping the rewards of this decision. Is it worth it? That's debatable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To say that Caliborn didn't get along with people would be... Well, the understatement of the century. They'd pussyfoot around, or they'd act like the shit - like he couldn't beat their ass into a pulp in about five seconds flat. Like he couldn't kill them with his goddamn bare hands, the limp-wristed, paper-pushing bitches.

Thankfully, not many people were too keen to mess around with a six and a half foot mass of solid, tattooed muscle. A full sleeve down his left arm, a snake curling around a spine down his back, but most importantly, the green skull over his head, nose, and upper cheeks. It had been a bitch to have done, took forever, cost a fortune - but it did its job. People stayed the fuck away.

It made it hard to find a job, of course, but the long, lonely stretches of open roads that a truck driver dealt with was just up his alley and didn't require looking smart. He didn't exactly enjoy his job, but... It wasn't awful. Especially when he found a diner with surprisingly decent food to add to his route, like the place he was headed to. Ten more miles, and then the best pie south of the state line would be waiting for him.

So of course that's when he turns a corner on an utterly deserted, heavily forested road and nearly runs over an idiot that probably fucking deserved to die if he was going to walk around at this time of night with black clothing and no warning in the middle of the road. Every curse word under the sun and then some leaves the trucker's mouth as he swerves and slams on the breaks, the truck screeching to a slow halt. Thankfully he wasn't carrying a load, otherwise the damn thing probably would have capsized.

Running high on adrenaline and pure, frothing fury, Caliborn is out of the car in seconds with the sturdy weight of the baseball bat in his hand as he practically roars at whatever stupid ass fucker had the fucking gall to piss him off. "The _fuck_. Do you think you're doing?" He snarls, hating the halting words made worse by his emotions. "Got a. Death wish, you little motherfucking shit? I can. _Fucking_ help with that. Perfect goddamn place. To do it, too!"

Almost abruptly, the hulking male's words cut off, the hand holding his bat aloft lowering slowly because... Because the idiot wandering around is looking at him, trembling bad in the frigid winter air in nothing but a worn out undershirt and too-tight jeans that had seen better days. He doesn't rush to apologize, doesn't fight back, just... Shrinks down into himself, hunches his shoulders, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, and waits.

There just didn't seem to be much point, beating on somebody who was already so defeated.

Eyes just a little too bright to be called hazel glance up at his sudden silence, appraising him with a sort of emotionless, exhausted acceptance wrought by long days and longer nights of wandering. Caliborn is not a gentle man, not kind, hell, he's the farthest thing from it - but his bat taps the ground, a sigh tearing out of his throat as he gestures abruptly towards the truck.

"Get in."

Blue-tinged lips open, a pink tongue darting out to wet them before the boy speaks, voice a quiet tenor and surprisingly steady despite how his slender little body shivered in the frigid air. "Stranger danger much?"

"Pretty sure you meant. Thank you. Now get in. Or I drag you in." Caliborn snaps right back, sneering sharp and mean because how _dare_ this little shrimp of a kid try to reject the one good deed he'd done in quite a while.

The strange boy studies him for a moment, seems to debate it, then ducks his head and shuffles towards the truck obediently without another word. Caliborn follows after, kicking at a rock while muttering under his breath as he stalks his way back to the driver's seat. The key is still in the ignition, heater going full blast, and the kid hasn't wasted much time pressing fingers that had gone blue at the tips against the vents. It doesn't take more than a second of watching that before the bigger male is reaching back to grab his discarded jacket, dropping it on top of that shock of near-white hair to let the strange blonde sort it out as he gets back on the road.

Returning to the regular monotony of driving, Caliborn starts sneaking glances at the slender little boy he'd invited so carelessly into his truck. Obviously bleached hair, once gelled though falling into disarray by now. Pale skin made worse by the cold, lips cracked or bitten bloody in a spot or two. Those startling eyes that looked... Almost orange, almost gold. Probably just the lighting. A lithe, young body, lean muscle along his arms. Features bordering more on pretty than handsome, with full lips and long lashes, cheekbones sharp and cheeks a little gaunt.

Grimacing, the trucker throws open the middle compartment and rummages through it, dragging a somewhat battered half of a sandwich out to toss it in the kid's lap. Something was really wrong with this brat, Caliborn decided. There had to be, because Caliborn English did not feel pity and was not nice in any way, shape or form.

And yet the boy, maybe eighteen, curled up in a sad little ball in his passenger seat and nibbling hesitantly at the corner of his sandwich made a sharp little twinge shoot through the man's chest like a stubborn splinter caught beneath the skin. It's fucking annoying, and Caliborn really wants it to stop already.

One more glance towards the kid and his eyes meet that odd gaze straight on - and no, they're definitely some shade of ridiculous golden orange, it isn't a trick of the light. Contacts? But what the fuck was someone doing out here at this time of night wearing clothes like that and colored contacts, of all things?

"Where are we going?" The words are questioning, but the tone is flat and even, like something prerecorded. Like it doesn't matter, but the stranger seemed to think he should say it.

Caliborn sneers, his go to expression when anything didn't fit with his view of what should be - which was just about any time he met another person, really. "Austin. Then up to Little Rock. Not carrying a load. So I can drop you. Wherever." He gets out before gritting his teeth, trying to focus on letting go of his tension and taking deep breaths and all that bullshit 'anger management' shite Callie was always sending him, nosy bitch.

She'd know what to do if she were here. She'd probably even be able to pull the frigid brat right out of his shell and know his whole life story in thirty minutes flat, because she was the _smart_ one and the _kind_ one and the one people _liked_.

Bitch.

Said frigid brat doesn't do more than nod, though, obviously not too concerned about where their destination was. That couldn't be healthy. Hell, the stupid little kid barely fucking hesitated when a complete stranger of a tatted up trucker ordered him into the vehicle. Seriously, what was wrong with this guy?

It's with a slow building dread that Caliborn realizes he's actually quite interested in finding out how the teen ended up in this situation. Which wasn't supposed to fucking happen. Fucking Christ, he was never going to help another person out of the goodness of his shriveled black lump of coal he called a heart again.

"What's your name?" He asks - demands, voice low and annoyed enough to nearly come out a growl. He hadn't meant it to, but... Damn it, all of this was frustrating and confusing him, and he didn't like being frustrated or confused, and certainly not at once. It made him think, and wonder, and he was definitely going to get a headache soon.

Picking at the sandwich, the boy waits long enough that Caliborn is opening his mouth to snap another question before he finally answers. "Dirk." Short, simple, in that same listless monotone as before. Not a lie, but... Like it didn't matter.

The trucker sticks a hand out, and the kid does jump a little at the abrupt movement, eyeing the offered fingers like they were snakes about to bite him. "Caliborn." The bigger male mutters, reaching out to grab one hand in his, give it a firm shake, and then drop it quickly. The feel of those icy digits remains on his skin for a while, though, and he's absently rubbing it on his jeans as one hand stays firm on the wheel.

It isn't even half an hour later that a glance to the side shows the kid passed out against the window, curled up tight in his seat, the trucker's big jacket wrapped around him like a blanket. And it really is large enough to be one, only the tips of tattered converse showing from beneath the hem, chin tucked up under the collar. Somehow, he seems even more vulnerable like this, brow faintly furrowed as though whatever haunted him wouldn't let go even in his dreams. Tiny, fragile, weak...

And yet, for some reason, Caliborn couldn't summon up even a pinch of disgust at the thought.

He keeps driving, fixing his eyes on the asphalt and making sure to avoid the more dilapidated roads. This particular stretch is familiar enough he could almost do it in his sleep, so he doesn't bother pausing for some shuteye - even though there was a mattress in the back, if he needed it. Instead, he keeps going until dawn is shining bright and bitchy in his face, making his eyes twinge with complaint, only then actively seeking out somewhere to rest.

Usually, this is when he'd stop off at a truck stop and crash in the sleeping berth. But... A glance at the kid has him mentally tallying his last paycheck, debating on whether it would be worth it to grab a motel. Dirk might get the wrong idea, but... Well, two people crammed on a twin bed in the back of a truck was just as liable to give that impression. Best to splurge for a room with double beds and enjoy the hot water while it lasted.

It takes another hour or two before he can manage to find a motel with decent enough parking to slide in safely. Dirk doesn't so much as twitch a muscle, so he takes his duffel bag, leaves the kid there while he checks in, grabs a room key, and heads back out. Knocking on the window earns a jump from the little male, wide orange eyes snapping open to stare in muted surprise at Caliborn through the glass until muzzy thoughts make sense. The door pops open after a little fumbling for the handle, and the little blonde just raises an inquisitive brow - though the tension in his shoulders is a little telling.

Taking a step back, Caliborn stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid and just gives the weird brat his space. "Can't keep. Driving for much longer." He explains, gruff and moody as a scowl fixes itself across his face. A jerk of his chin indicates the long row of rooms behind him, and he has to consciously slouch a little in an out of the ordinary and, to be honest, extraordinarily uncomfortable motion. All for the kid.

A vague thought passes through the trucker's mind, wondering if, somehow, he'd been - who the fuck even knew, spelled or cursed, or... Something. But then Cal discounts it immediately, because magic was for babies and pussies and he was neither of those things.

That startling, ridiculous gaze studies him for a long moment before Dirk just nods, sliding out of the cab to stand... Weirdly close. Damn it. He probably was getting the wrong idea. Caliborn has to reach around him to slam the door shut, remote locking it before sliding the key into his pocket. The lithe blonde doesn't so much as twitch away, only lifting a still-cold hand to press against the firm bulk of the bigger man's chest and -

He's tiny. Caliborn is a big guy, of course, and most people are smaller than him, but... Kid can't be over five and a half feet, the top of his head just barely clearing the man's shoulder, and he's built scrawny as a toothpick. Fuck, he'd probably be able to snap the little guy in half with a too-tight grip. It makes him feel... Odd.

Odd was a good way to put it.

Before he has to think on it further, he steps back and leads the way to the room. It's a shithole, but not as bad as it could be. Cal's certainly slept in far worse places before, with roaches crawling out of the walls and what he was pretty sure was a whore set up permanently next door. There did seem to be a never ending stream of men and moaning that hadn't exactly helped his rather erratic sleep cycle. He doesn't so much as pause as he steps inside, eagerly shrugging out of his shirt and tossing his bag on the foot of one of the beds to paw through it for a fresh one.

In stark contrast, Dirk pauses for a long moment at the entrance, taking everything in - the double beds, the scratchy sheets, and the broad, bronzed expanse of Cal's back. The tattoos are... Disconcerting, certainly, but a longer look shows a fairly attractive man to the blonde's inquisitive gaze. A nice body, nothing like he thought a trucker would look like. And sure, there was the speech impediment that was all too noticeable, and the aggression issues, but... well. A little foul language was hardly about to scare him off.

So, when Caliborn moves towards the bathroom with a bundle of clothes clutched in his hands, Dirk isn't far behind. The door clicks quietly behind him as he shuts it, staying silent as he watches his unlikely savior strip down further. Muscle, all the way down, firm and taut and not a tan line in sight. Scars, too. Most were light, just a few shades paler than his natural skin. Others were deeper, puckered and still an angry red despite being healed. There were some awful ones just below the knee that has the young blonde wincing a little in sympathy pains.

A sharp sigh, half irritated and half resigned, makes Dirk snap his head up to meet narrowed russet eyes staring down at him. There's not a hint or shame of embarrassment in that gaze - and, to be strictly objective, the man had nothing to be ashamed of - even as he turns to face the younger man fully. Not letting his own gaze drop lower than Cal's chin, the youth takes a step forward - then another, and that's all it takes until he's standing right in front of his savior, maybe an inch between them.

Cal makes no move to close that scant difference, lips curled in a lighter frown than usual, as though he'd expected this. He had, though not quite so soon. Not quite so bold. It should make it easier, telling the kid to get the fuck out and go to sleep, nipping the problem in the bud before it became a thing.

But, when he opens his mouth to tell Dirk what's what, what actually comes out is, "Car accident. Most of them, anyway." A gesture towards himself, the leg in particular. "Nearly amputated it. More metal than flesh by now." He studies the expression on the youth's face, watching for that painfully familiar flash of pity, uncertainty, disgust, but... It never comes. Either this kid had the best poker face he'd ever seen, or something was seriously wrong with him.

"Do they still hurt?" The boy questions, obviously figuring out that Caliborn had no intentions of pushing things farther himself. So slender fingers, still rather cool, reach out to trace the web of scars across the trucker's chest, fascinated by the intricate, macabre design - only to jolt when a huge hand closed around his wrist, stopping his hand in place.

The kid has to be half bird with how fragile his bones feel, jutting against his skin like they were trying to break free. It's like a splash of cold water to the face, and Caliborn carefully pushes the little blonde back and away. Or tried to, anyways. There wasn't much space in the bathroom, and Dirk's back is pressed against the door. That's really not much better, but he doesn't know what else to _do_.

Dirk stares at him for a moment, searching his expression - and then steps forward, right back up against the naked man. "You aren't taking advantage of me." He murmurs, voice quiet, more tentative than anything he'd said before. "I'm offering. Unless you don't want me?"

Silence reigns, and there's a flash of undeniable smugness that flits across the youth's expression. As hard as the man tried to hide it, the attraction was there. It had been such a long time since Cal had found more than a drunken one night stand. Even then, it was hard for them to look past the tattoos, baldness, and muscle. Yes, he did want the delicate boy offering himself so willingly.

And yet, he can't bring himself to say so.

Not seeming to mind, the slender blonde slides right past him, casting off his own clothes without a hint of hesitation. He's just as skinny everywhere else, all sharp edges and pale skin and big eyes, like a masterpiece cut from marble. One big hand reaches out, settles between the sharp ridges of Dirk's shoulderblades. The gentle notches of his spine slides beneath Caliborn's fingers as his hand strokes down, down...

When Dirk turns in his grip, the bigger man's hand settles on one of those sharp hips, thumb rubbing the jut of bone before elegant fingers raise to catch his. Two steps back, and then they're both crowding into the cramped shower together, the blonde reaching around to twist on the water. What has to be frigid pebbles of ice slams into Cal's back, and he hisses sharply, scowling even as the smug little shit in his arms chuckles, twisting the dial towards red.

"Like it hot?" He asks, a smile coyly tugging at his lips and eyes going half-lidded in playful challenge. It's such a change from his earlier dullness that the bigger male has to take a moment to reorient himself, reassure himself that yes, this is the same person and no, he doesn't seem to be faking it. Not if the cock slowly rising to attention between soft thighs is anything to go by.

The noise that rumbles up from somewhere in Caliborn's deep chest is undeniably a growl - and there's an undeniable, answering shiver from the youth's slim body, back arching against the cold tile as he's pinned firmly in place by the trucker's body. He's caged in by thick arms, a broad chest, the knee sliding up between his thighs and - and _he fucking loves it._

Cal's head lowers and the blonde's hands link behind that powerful neck with a quiet whimper barely heard over the running water, surging up to press fluttering, feathery kisses to the man's jawline, nibbling on the lobe of his ear in a way that makes those big hands clench down painfully tight on his hips. The shaky gasp that leaves Dirk is just as quiet as his whimper, but this time right in the other man's ear, and a dark chuckle is his answer.

"I could. Snap you like a twig." The trucker points out, rocking his knee up in a way that has Dirk shuddering, legs going weak as he mewls a sweet, broken little noise. It's the best thing Cal's ever heard, and his touch is possessive as he reaches down to grope at that plush little ass, pulling the boy up against him.

The smoldering gaze Dirk shoots up at him is made all the hotter with those unnatural eyes. " _Good_." He says, voice low and heated and oh. Oh. Well then.

He could work with this.

Both hands hook beneath the boy's thighs and haul him up, dragging a yelp from the blonde's reddening lips. Cal's body slips easily between those lovely legs, Dirk quick to hook his ankles across the other man's back as he groans and arches, a full-fledged erection trapped between their bodies. "Oh - _fuck_ , Cal, please." He hisses out, nails digging into the firm muscle of the man's back.

Teeth sink into the meaty joint between neck and shoulder, marking pale flesh with what would soon darken to mottled blue and black. The bigger man had always been possessive, now more than ever, and with the way Dirk _wails_ and scrabbles for a better grip, shuddering, cock jolting, he's not exactly complaining.

For such a quiet guy, the little blonde was loud and fierce as a wildcat when he got worked up. Caliborn was all too happy to encourage that, groaning as he grinds his own length up against the pliant flesh of his boy's round little rear. "Oh, little one." He growls, tongue flicking hot and wet against damp skin, enjoying the taste of the kid maybe a little too much. "You have no idea. What you're getting yourself into."

Dirk doesn't seem at all daunted, panting in the humid air as he rocks his hips, rubbing himself shamelessly against the other man's abdomen in a desperate need for friction. "Stop teasing and do it already." He demands with all the arrogance of the young and naive - and then the little brat bites him right back, just beneath Cal's ear where the mark was sure to show.

If it was meant to rile the big man up, it certainly did the trick. He snarls, honest to god snarls, and supports the youth's meager weight with just one hand as the other slips between them to curl, just on the verge of painfully tight around the blonde's erection. Once again, Dirk has absolutely no qualms, eagerly bucking up into that snug grip and whining soft and needy to encourage the other male.

Short, quick strokes, impatient and rough. There's no finesse, no teasing, not now. Things were moving fast, sped along by the slippery heat enclosing them, and Cal's thumb swipes over the youth's slit to spread the moisture there, teases the flare of the mushroom head. His shoulders are sure to look like a cat's scratching post by the time they're done, but he doesn't care, not when those sweet cries are mewled into his ear so perfectly, the way that lithe body writhes, begging for more, eager and responsive to his touch.

The boy spills into his hand not long after, thighs trembling as Cal carefully, slowly eases him down to the ground. Protectiveness flares, and his hand doesn't let go until he's sure Dirk is steady on his feet - only to be surprised when slender hands grip his fingers, raising them up to the blonde's lips so he could suckle and lick each one clean before sliding his tongue over the man's palm as well, cleaning any trace of himself away from Caliborn's skin.

And then, Dirk drops down to his knees right then and there, not wasting a second as he grips the thick length, heavy and flushed angry red to place a row of near reverent kisses from base to tip. A dexterous little tongue snakes out to tease the slit before his lips part, taking in just the head to suckle, hooded eyes looking up all the while.

Caliborn groans in approving encouragement, leaning forward to rest a hand on the tile wall, holding himself up as that platinum pale head of hair bobs lower, lower, taking him farther into the heated cavern of the boy's mouth. It should probably mean something to him that Dirk is this good, but he doesn't dwell on it, not now. Not when his cock is being so expertly taken care of, elegant fingers stroking what the tight suction of his mouth can't reach.

Spoken too soon, it might seem. Those hands take hold of his hips as Dirk's expression firms, determined, and then he's tilting his head a bit, easing forward - the tightness of his throat clenching briefly around the head of Cal's cock before it relents. Swallowing bit by bit, inch by inch, his shaft disappears into the youth's mouth, the narrow channel of his throat.

This, it seems, Dirk doesn't quite have down. There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, faint winces when he goes too fast, fighting himself until he can press his nose to Cal's pelvis and satisfaction gleams in that sunset gaze. Unable to stay there long, he pulls back and off to cough, nose scrunching up in a way that's almost - okay, definitely adorable, catching his breath.

One big hand threads through his locks, guides him forward again - gently at first, then more firm when Dirk doesn't object - until his mouth is stretched open around the first few inches of Caliborn's cock again. "Good boy." He murmurs, and is rewarded with a low, heated moan, the blonde's hands clutching at his hips as he practically dives forward, eager to please the other man.

But Cal doesn't let him. That hand in his hair tightens, earning a whimper, and then it's moving, forcing Dirk's head to follow its pace. The bigger man is careful to keep an eye on those red cheeks and closed eyes, of course, but no longer does the kid have the control - not that he seems to mind. His hips begin to move as well, dragging a surprised cough from the boy at first, but he's good. He adjusts easily, and then Caliborn is fucking his mouth, those fingers constricting and relaxing, but never pushing, never trying to get away.

Dirk's eyes open, soft and trusting and submissive, and that's it. That's the last straw, that's all it takes, and Caliborn is hitting his limit, thick ropes of cum coating the boy's tongue in bitter saltiness. The squeak of surprise that leaves him is downright adorable, and the man chuckles quietly as he slides his slowly softening cock from between reddened, slightly swollen lips - lips that Dirk licks as he pulls away, chasing briefly after him before settling back with a somewhat embarrassed expression.

There's no room in the shower, but Caliborn makes do, somehow managing to fit himself down and kneel in front of the boy. He knows his own expression is odd and soft and disconcerting, so he doesn't linger long - just presses a brief, light peck of a kiss to those lips before he hooks his hands underneath Dirk's arms to help him up. "Come on. Time to get cleaned up." He explains gruffly, going through the motions without any of the heated tension from before.

Seemingly confused, but tired enough not to question it, Dirk doesn't do much more than move himself obediently to the other man's will, letting himself be cleaned and then waiting until Caliborn himself is done before they step out. He manages to towel himself off, at least, wrapping the damp terrycloth around his waist in a somewhat amusing attempt at modesty. Cal does no such thing, seeing no point in doing so, walking stark naked out of the bathroom to turn down the covers and slide himself beneath the sheets.

Dirk is... Slower. Steps hesitant, he practically tiptoes from the bathroom to hesitate between the two beds. There's room for him on Caliborn's chosen bed, or a bed of his own, untouched. A glance at the other man's face shows a somewhat bored scowl as the trucker flicks through a battered old phone's screens before tossing it to the bedside table. One slow step towards that bed, and then a pause, waiting to be acknowledged.

Glancing up, Caliborn takes in the situation with a snort, reaching out to flip the sheets on the other side of the bed down. "Hurry up." He bites out, and Dirk is quick to comply, dropping his towel after only a moment's deliberation to inch beneath the sheets... Only to pause, once more unsure of himself.

Again reading the situation, the older male just reaches out, hand settling firm on the little blonde's worryingly flat belly before tugging the boy up against the curve of his body to share his warmth. Poor kid felt like an icicle, and a hiss of discomfort leaves him when frigid toes press up against his calves. "Jesus, kid. How are you cold again. Already?" He mutters, but the heat has gone out of his grumbling words.

Turning in his grip, Dirk nuzzles up beneath his chin with a soft sigh, relaxing the longer he was welcomed up against the big male. "Sorry." He murmurs, not actually sounding sorry at all as he smiles against the hollow of Cal's throat. "Guess you'll just have to warm me up."

Another snort, and one hand lands a firm pat on Dirk's backside that has him jerking and squeaking another embarrassing noise. "Later." The man tells him.

"Promise?" Dirk asks, impish and teasing.

"Promise. Now go to sleep, brat." Caliborn replies easily, ducking his head down to brush a kiss to the top of damp blonde locks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely anons who wanted to know more - especially 'i need an account but i'm too lazy'. You seriously don't know how happy your review made me.

When Caliborn wakes, it's to the feel of gentle, nearly ticklish fingers tracing their way along his arm, following a familiar path. The winding patterns of his tattoo were familiar by now, nearly ten years inked on his skin. Not many people were quite so interested in the design, though, and his eyes blink open slowly to spot a head of bleached pale hair at his side, a pretty face propped up on one fist with a brow faintly knit in concentration.

The kid doesn't even realize he's awake. He absolutely refuses to admit that it's a little (okay, more than a little) endearing.

"What. Are you doing?" He rasps out, rough voice even more grumbly than usual with sleep still thickening it and fuzzing his thoughts. The one thing that does show through with clarity, though, is that Dirk looks worryingly young without that emotionless mask from last night, lit by the warm, dying rays of sunshine that manage to sneak through the curtains.

Favoring the man with a tiny twitch of a smile, the youth just shakes his head and scoots down, laying with his cheek on Cal's bicep like a pillow. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." He explains to the trucker, leaning up to nuzzle a sweet little kiss to the man's cheek that nearly has him sputtering because -

Because who does that,, snuggling up to some random asshole who'd given them a ride?

Their moment in the shower earlier flashes through Caliborn's mind once more, how dispassionate the youth had been before their shower. The sudden fervor that had taken hold of him, and the skill in which he'd taken the bigger male's cock down. It had been hard to think, then, about just what that meant. Now, without an erection and a wet, sucking mouth around it, he's beginning to come to a few worrying conclusions.

Delicate fingers reach up and tweak the man's dark nipple, dragging a startled snarl of noise from him as he bats the boy's hand away and sits up with a scowl. For his part, Dirk just turns on his back, hands above his head and body arching just so as he keeps his eyes on his volatile savior, eyes hooded and inviting.

"Relax, big boy." He drawls out, kicking the sheets down to showcase those lovely, lean hips and strong thighs, pretty cock twitching with slow interest. "All that thinking must be hurting your head."

Caliborn's lips curl in an insulted sneer, but he obliges the cocky shit and slides his body between eagerly spread legs. With one hand on either side of the youth's head, he's trapped like that, and all too happy to be so, if the look on his face was any indication. The trucker, on the other hand, hesitates. "Who're you running from?" He asks, abrupt and rough even as he ducks down to bite possessively at the tempting jut of a collarbone.

Hissing with pleasure, the lithe blonde's knees bracket the bigger man's hips even as his hands link behind Cal's neck. "Not running." He says, voice breathy and thin. His Adam's apple bobs with a swallow, drawing the other male's attention up to teethe lightly at it. "Just leaving somethin' behind, that's all."

"Bullshit." The bigger male growls, teeth catching at the lobe of Dirk's ear as one hand reaches up, seeking out those delicate wrists to pin them to the pillows. The blonde is quick to test that grip, a pleased curl of a smile twisting his lips up when he finds the grasp firm, unrelenting.

Sunset eyes flick over Caliborn's face, down the generous musculature of his chest, before latching hungrily onto the stiffening arousal hung even more generously between his legs. "C'mon, Cal." He practically purrs, ankles hooking at the small of the man's back to try and draw him lower. "There are better things to do than talk. Like me. Right now."

Like a dog with a bone, the bigger male just can't seem to leave it alone - however much he wishes he could because fuck if the kid didn't know how to use those slender hips of his, rolling them up in just the right way to drag a feral groan from Caliborn's lips. Oh, he definitely wants to fuck, alright... But more than that, he wants to scratch the itch of his unusual curiosity. "Tell me." He demands, pinning that lithe body down with one knee braced on the youth's thigh.

Annoyance flashes across Dirk's features, calculation in those pretty eyes before he sighs and slumps a bit, head falling to the side. It seems a simple enough gesture, but the other man is all too aware of what it means - that the little blonde can't meet his eyes at all. Guilt, maybe. Or shame.

"Running away would imply that someone's chasing me. Which I can assure you, they aren't." Dirk's voice goes back to the way it was, passionless as he gives his wrists a gentle tug. This time, Cal releases them, and the youth brings his hands to rest on the man's firm chest, eyes following their path without looking at the trucker's face. "My parents don't care. I stayed in a hotel for a week, used my credit card and everything. If they wanted to find me, it wouldn't have been hard."

Ducking down to reward the boy with a gentle scrape of teeth along the tempting jut of his collarbone, Cal doesn't make a sound. He just waits, the press of his lips and tongue light as he moves down, warm breath ghosting over a reddened bud until he takes it gently into his mouth to draw a soft, trembling sigh from the little blonde - sweet relief after the disturbing lifelessness he'd fallen back on.

Elegant fingers stroke over his head, down the back of his neck and over the powerful muscle of his back, hesitant at first but with more surety as the big man lets out a quiet noise of appreciation. "You should stop." Comes Dirk's soft whisper, and the older of the two freezes, immediately pulling away.

"You want me. To stop?" He questions, voice gruff, brows lowered. His hands are still on Dirk's hips, and he snatches them back as soon as he realizes, earning a quiet noise of dissatisfaction from the youth.

"I didn't say that." The blonde hedges around the question, hands falling back to the pillows as he very carefully keeps his gaze no higher than the other man's chest - until roughened but careful fingers grip his chin, guiding it up until he has no choice but to meet Caliborn's dark gaze. "It's - you're confusing me." He tries to elaborate, and frustration sparks in him when he can't find the right words.

Confusion sounds about right. Cal sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and letting the youth have a little room to breathe. "How?" He demands in answer, pressing his knee a little harder into the pretty boy's thigh to keep him pinned when the little blonde makes to pull away.

Eyes narrowed, Dirk sits up to shove at the darker male's powerful chest, finally getting a little freedom when the man lets himself be moved back. "Look. What happened before, in the shower? I've done that a lot. It made me feel - fuck, I don't know. Wanted. For a bit. And now instead of fucking my brains out like I'm begging you to, you're pansying it up and making me talk about delicate feefees. And you wonder why I'm confused?"

The sudden bout of spite takes the trucker a little by surprise, and Caliborn's immediate reaction is to draw himself up, lips curled in an ugly snarl. And, had it been anyone else except the scrawny, lovely little blonde in front of him, he'd have likely beaten them bloody for the disrespect, and enjoyed every minute of it, too.

But there's a twinge of warning in that under-used, rational part of his brain - the one that sounds a hell of a lot like Callie - that tells him that it was just a reflex, just a defense. So, with a surge of willpower Cal wasn't aware he had, the man calms himself, wraps his arms around the youth's waist and tugs Dirk into his lap as he sits back, ignoring the immediate flurry of limbs and hissed, sharp words.

"Shut it. Little shit." He snaps, nips at the blonde's earlobe, and Dirk stills, curled up against his chest to sulk. "Listen up. I'm no pansy. But I don't take. Advantage of little boys who. Don't know what they need."

A brief pause, and then Dirk is twisting in his lap to straddle his thighs, those striking eyes burning with fire. "I'm not a little boy." He bites out each word, blunt nails digging into Caliborn's shoulders. If the man had been any lighter skinned or any more prone to bruising, he's sure he would have carried fingerprints from that grip. "And I know what I want."

Ignoring the dull ache, Caliborn just lets his eyes wander down and up, hands lowering to settle on those tempting hips once more. "No. You aren't a kid." He agrees, one hand sliding back, lifting up only to deliver a stinging smack that has those pretty red lips parting in a startled squeak, that slender body jolting with the force of it. "But you know. What you _like_. Not what you want. Won't fuck you until you do."

For a long moment, Dirk stays quiet, expression unreadable as he watches the other's face. Eventually, though, it softens, and he leans forward to press a hesitant, brief kiss to Caliborn's lips. "So, what? We're just going to suffer through blue balls side by side?" He asks, soft words not nearly as cocky as he must have meant them to be.

He's rewarded with a wicked, wolfish grin, and then he's yelping in surprise as he finds himself face down on the sheets, a powerful body blanketing his back. "Never said that." Caliborn growls in his ear, and that alone is enough to drag a shudder from him. Well, that, and the thick drag of the man's monster cock up along one thigh. "Close your legs."

Quick and eager to do as that rough voice demands, Dirk presses his thighs closed around that hefty shaft, biting his lip on a groan. Each slow, lazy thrust of the man's hips has the length of his cock dragging along the blonde's balls, the crack of his ass, just enough of a tease that it's hard for the boy not to squirm or whine for more.

Besides, Caliborn seems to get the picture on his own. Once again, his hand returns to the youth's cock to give it a playful squeeze as he strokes it. A low curse leaves Dirk's lips as he arches his back, drops his head to the sheets even as he presses his hips back against the other man. He knows - he knows he shouldn't be this into such a simple thing. They're not even fucking. And yet... For some reason, his body is fairly aching for the man's touch.

And then... It comes again. "Good boy." Caliborn rumbles in the youth's ear, and the blonde chokes on a needy whimper. This time, the man catches it, understands it. Dirk can feel his smirk in the press of his lips to the boy's jaw, a thrill of anticipation running through his lithe body even before that gruff voice starts up again.

"Yeah. Like that. Perfect, little one. Squeeze a little tighter... That's it. Good."

Simple words. Nothing special. But the praise still makes Dirk shudder, makes his cock twitch in Caliborn's tight grip. He should be embarrassed, being this easily pleased, but fuck if this wasn't everything he'd wanted - a big, boulder of a man that could goddamn wreck him, toss him around like a ragdoll, calling him a good boy, telling him he was perfect and good and wanted...

It doesn't take long for the youth to cum all over Caliborn's hand, gasping out a breathless sob as he did so and going boneless and vulnerable beneath the powerful male. The man lets him go, lets him spread out on the sheets and listen to the trucker's short, huffing breaths, the low, rumbling groans of pleasure that leave him as he fucks his hand. Stripes of wet heat land on his ass and the small of his back, but Dirk doesn't even care - well, okay. If he's being honest, he's a little pleased with himself. Bordering on smug.

The press of the bigger man's lips to his shoulders not long after makes the little blonde stir muzzily, a sleepy noise leaving him as he turns his head to meet Caliborn's gaze. "Wuzzit?" He asks, clutching at the pillow as he blinks tiredly. Most of the day had been spent wondering and worrying, unable to sleep, and it was all catching up to him now.

A hand cards through his pale locks, and Dirk can only hope that its the clean one as the bigger man speaks up. "Need to get back. On the road." He explains quietly, giving those strands caught in his grip a light tug. "Can you shower. Get ready? While I check out. You can sleep in the truck."

With a sigh, Dirk nods, grimacing slightly as he draws himself up. Truckers and their schedules. It would definitely take some getting used to. "Yeah - yeah, I can. Fifteen minutes?"

Caliborn's nod in return is satisfied, and his hand lowers to hook behind the blonde's neck, tugging him closer until he can press a lingering kiss to slightly swollen lips. "Good boy." He teases, and then he's up, getting dressed, packing up, and heading out to leave Dirk to his business.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems rushed, the porn in this chapter was giving me hells of trouble and I just wanted to get it finished for you guys. And I'm so sorry it took me this long to get it done! I have plans for where to go in the future with this, but nothing I can write unless I want to timeskip like a month :/ Suggestions are always welcome.

"Do you have any family?" The question comes out of the blue, almost casual if not for the slight tension in the youth's shoulders. It's easier to read Dirk after a few days of constant companionship - and knowing what he looked like totally relaxed, blissed out and whining for attention until he fell asleep. After an easy half hour of comfortable silence, the sudden agitation is startling and uncomfortable.

It takes him a moment to puzzle out the reasoning behind it, before somewhat dubiously coming to the conclusion that this was the first personal question Dirk had dropped on him. Shrugging, Cal does his best to ignore the implications in the hesitancy of the youth's question as he answers honestly. "Twin sister, Callie. She's the good child." A sharp snort of dismissal, the thought of his perfect sibling annoying him just as much as ever. "Mother died in labor. Hemorrhaging. Dad's dead. Didn't come soon enough." May the bastard burn in hell.

"Is that Daddy Issues I hear?" Dirk's snark is back, and Cal barely resists the urge to snarl his retort to such a mocking comment.

Biting hard on the inside of his cheek, the big man takes a moment to make sure he wouldn't scare the kid off again before he speaks. "Not since I shot him." He eventually decides on, simple and blunt. He doesn't even glance at Dirk as he says it, keeping his eyes firmly on the road as day slowly begins to turn to night once more.

Dirk's laugh is soft but easy, the tension dissipating as he relaxes back against the window. "Whatever you say, tough guy." He shakes his head, amused, before kicking his legs up onto the seat to playfully nudge his foot against Cal's thigh. The bigger man just shoves at him, sparing him a brief glance and a hint of a smile before looking out to the road again.

Seemingly more comfortable with this line of questioning now, the youth prods at his companion's hip with his toes once more before speaking up again. "So you're not close with your sister either? I thought twins tended to be pretty - I don't know, connected? Or is that all movie magic?"

Fingers taptaptapping along the steering wheel for a long moment, Cal seems to struggle to find words for maybe another mile. "... Callie and me. It's. Complicated." He eventually bites out, the leather of the wheel creaking briefly as his grip tightens, white-knuckled. The silence stretches, and the man's lip curls up in an uncomfortable sneer before he speaks again. "She's good. I'm not. I don't want to..."

Abruptly, Dirk reaches out and turns on the radio, letting it cut the bigger man off and filling the space between them. Cal isn't used to feeling grateful, but he's pretty sure this is how it goes, and he can feel the tension leaving his shoulders when he isn't pestered about it again. He almost _almost_ wants to say thank you. But since he isn't a whiny punk ass bitch, he doesn't.

Instead, he reaches a hand out to ruffle through those blonde locks, mussing the artfully styled spikes into an awful state of disarray that has Dirk squawking in dismay and smacking at his hand until he pulls away, a huff of a laugh leaving him despite his best attempt at holding it in. "Looks better like that." He comments snidely, grin crooked and more genuine than he's entirely comfortable with, honestly.

"Says the man who thought a half frozen teenager was attractive enough to fuck." Dirk snips back, chin raised in that haughty, cocky little way he had, eyes alight with mischief even if his expression remained thoroughly frozen in snooty distaste. "I suppose there's no accounting for taste."

It's an easy joke between the two by now, and Cal barks out a laugh before jabbing right back. "Three quarters frozen. And you started it. Remember?"

What was sure to be another of their strangely comfortable 'arguments' is cut off by a gurgle of Dirk's stomach, loud enough to be heard over the music, and pale cheeks flush bright enough to draw a smug smirk to the other man's lips. "Yeah, alright." Caliborn concedes after a moment, slowing the truck to start looking for an exit. "Let's go. Shove something down your throat."

Groaning, Dirk's expression scrunches in something akin to horror. " _Cal_ , that was awful. Why would you make me hear that with my own two ears? I might be a masochist but that was too much even for me. Red light, take it down a notch, never do that again."

He's rambling again. Just a bit, but compared to his normal speech, each word carefully measured and thought out even when it seemed otherwise... It's - nice. That's the only way Cal can think to put it, anyways. It's like Dirk is letting his walls down, just a bit, comfortable enough to show a side of himself that he was fairly sure the kid didn't let a lot of people see.

Cal doesn't dwell on that long. It makes him want to start cracking heads whenever he does, and he's still doing his best to not frighten the teen sitting beside him. He tries not to dwell on that, either, considering the only person he'd ever felt protective of had been his sister, and he'd known her since the womb. He was her brother. He was supposed to look after her. Some random kid on the side of the road wasn't his responsibility.

And yet...

Said random kid seems to notice his sudden lapse into silence, turning curious orange eyes on the bigger male - which he still couldn't believe were real, even after he'd seen Dirk poke at his eyes with no affect on the ridiculous color of his irises. "Cal?" He questions softly, reaching out a hand to prod lightly at the trucker's nose with a smile that borders on playful. "Not zoning out on me, are you? I don't think I can drive this thing by myself if you pass out."

Batting Dirk's hand away, Caliborn huffs in feigned annoyance before guiding his rig off the highway and into the slightly more crowded streets of a small town. "Keep your damn hands to yourself. Touch my girl. You die." This, punctuated with a firm pat to the dash, earns another stifled giggle from the boy, drawing pride to the bigger man even if he knew it was directed more at him than with him.

There's a hokey little diner not too far off the highway, looking far too humble and friendly for Cal's tastes. He much preferred fast food, or at least something in a chain. It kept the waiters from getting too friendly. Or, in this case, from catching onto the fact that Dirk was probably not eighteen yet and had no business tagging along with a man like Caliborn. But the little blonde is a force of nature when he got it into his head that he wanted to eat somewhere, and, with a snarled warning that shit had _better_ not go down or he'd leave the brat on the side of the road, he pulls off into the parking lot and kills the engine.

Perfectly content to lead the way for now, Dirk takes the lead. He doesn't quite lean into the bigger male, but he keeps close, an almost steadying presence against the sudden rush of warm, country greeting they receive as soon as the door opens. There's a scowl on Caliborn's face that does quite well at warding the cheery waitress's attempts at conversation off, though it only seems to make her redouble her efforts to make friendly with Dirk. It takes a good fifteen minutes before she leaves, even going so far as to whistle as she walked.

"Think she's a robot?"

Caliborn blinks, stumped by the simple question, and sends a narrow-eyed glance in the teen's direction. "What. The fuck?" He questions, slow and more than a little incredulous. "Why would you. Jump to that conclusion? Did the cold. Kill _all_ your brain cells?"

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes that only an adolescent could pull off, Dirk shakes his head, foot bumping lightly against his companion's as he crosses his legs beneath the table. "Oh, come off it. Like you've never shit talked about people at a restaurant before?" There's an amused cant to the little blonde's lips that isn't quite a smile, and Cal really wishes he could focus on that instead of the subject at hand.

Dirk reads something in the depths of the man's deepening scowl, though, and his not a smile fades to something a little more concerned, and this time the gentle nudge of his foot is purposeful. "Sorry." He murmurs, tone kinder now as he reaches across the table to toy with Cal's rough knuckles. "I'll stop asking about your family if you want."

Eyes fixated on those delicate fingertips that rub soft, soothing circles into his toughened skin, Caliborn doesn't answer for a good long while. When he does, his voice is quieter than normal - though admittedly, just as rough. "Not yet." He mutters, simple but firm, his hand going to draw back in automatic defense for the surge of annoyance his rejection was sure to generate.

But Dirk doesn't pull away. Instead, he presses a little harder, stopping the bigger man from retreating so that he can keep up his all too gentle assault on Cal's hand. "Okay." He accepts it just as simply, flashing a brief, understanding smile that does something very odd and a little painful to Cal's chest. "I understand, you know. There's some things I'm not ready to tell you either."

The waitress comes back at that moment, of course, all sugary tones and Colgate smile, and Caliborn is sorely tempted to smack a bitch. Dirk plays the polite young adult very well, but Cal... Cal likes the real him better.

... Fucking Christ, when did he become such a goddamn pussy about this shit? Hell, a couple more weeks with this bitch and who knows, he might even be a half decent person. It's not a thought that he wants to dwell on.

"Caliborn?" Light fingers tap at his knuckles, dragging the trucker's attention up towards the waitress who watches with an expectant smile. "Are you ready to order yet, or do you need a minute?" Dirk hasn't pulled his hand back, still resting it lightly atop Caliborn's, and the gentle weight is making something weird and squishy and entirely unwanted bubble up in the man's stomach.

"Water and a burger. All the way." He mutters abruptly, hands drawing back and out of reach before he thinks his actions through. Regret is sharp and immediate at the flash of hurt that flares in that sunset gaze, and Cal's lips thin to a sharp line. Because no fucking way was he going to apologize about not acting like a sappy bitch in public.

Besides. The goddamn waitress was already staring. Didn't need to make it worse.

After she's gone, Dirk shifts, the toe of his shoe gently nudging up against his companion's. "Cal? Is everything okay?" He asks cautiously, something thin and yearning in his gaze that does painful, crushing things to the other man's chest. Because beneath that simple question is another one of far more importance.

Did I do something wrong?

"The sappy shit. Keep it in the rig." It's blunt, and not exactly what was actually going on in his head, but like hell was he going to be a little bitch in the middle of a hokey small town diner like this. Dirk's expression is still dubious and a little confused, but he accepts the response with a quiet nod, other foot sliding forward to sandwich one of Caliborn's boots between them. And it's... Nice. Yeah. Nice.

The food comes not too long after, and Dirk's gaze watches the people around them with obvious amusement. Several snide little comments manage to make his companion choke on a bite of food, and Cal learns to expect them whenever he sees that particular, thin smirk tug at the boy's lips. It's probably the most fun he's had at a table since... Well, ever. He isn't made to participate, allowing himself silence as he watches the subtle play of emotions across the kid's pretty face - the little shimmer of bright amusement in his eyes, the soft brush of pale lashes across sharp cheekbones, the minute tilt of his head whenever something in particular catches his interest...

It isn't until his attention has fallen to the twist of pink lips around cutting words that Caliborn realizes that the boy's sunset gaze rests steadily on him, the slow smolder of something disturbingly affectionate in them. Those lips are twisted up in something too soft to be called a smirk, but that he isn't quite ready to call a smile yet, and one of Dirk's feet - shoe kicked off at some point, when had that happened? - was rubbing lightly against his calf.

"I think they've got the single bathrooms here." The comment is casual, at odds with the mischief in the teen's gaze as he slides a glance towards them. "All the way in the back... Kitchen's on the other side of the building..."

Caliborn's chair squeals as he shoves it back, steadily setting enough money to cover the bill and the tip on the table, before heading straight for the bathroom. Because yes. Yes he was definitely that easy. Especially when it came to too pretty boys with too pretty eyes who were fucking _unfair_ with their bullshit hypnotism. Also he sort of wanted that goddamn waiter to come by and hear him taking that cocky little brat down a peg or two.

Ignoring the little chuckle his actions bring, he closes the door of the bathroom behind him without locking it as he glances around. It's fairly clean, to his immense surprise, rustic-looking like the rest of the place. Not too shabby. The sink's sort of small, though, and the lube was in the car... Something fast and clean, then. Or maybe not so clean. Leave a mess for the waitress to clean up. Hm...

Let it be said that Caliborn was fully aware of how petty he was. He just didn't give a shit about it.

The door opens, and Dirk's slender body slides inside, that same cocky smirk on his lips before he opens them to speak - only for the bigger man's thick fingers to circle the delicate column of his throat and shove him bodily up against the wall. "Don't say a word." Caliborn grits out, voice low and even rougher than normal, and the kid just _shudders_ , nodding and going loose and pliant in his grasp.

"Knees." Comes the simple demand, and Dirk is following it just as soon as the man lets him, hard enough that he probably bruised his knees doing it. He doesn't even seem to care, though, bright eyes wide and eager as he watches Caliborn's expression for any clue as to what he should do next. It's a rush of egotistic power right to the dick, as is the desperate way the youth's tongue slips out to wet his lips, slightly parted already in anticipation.

Rough fingers wind tightly in thick blonde strands, ignoring the slightly tacky feeling of gel as Cal presses that pretty face right into the growing bulge of his crotch - because you're goddamn right he was popping a stiffie after that. He wasn't exactly sure why this halfgrown, scrawny little fucker had him by the balls the second the kid started acting like a slut, but Caliborn wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. He usually got bored of someone after a decent fuck, maybe two if they were good - and yet each time that smug little smirk crossed Dirk's face, he wanted to wipe it away again. Preferably with his dick.

Dirk clearly has no such inner turmoil, mouthing at thick denim with a low groan building in the back of his throat like it was his own dick being touched. Which - oh. Well that made more sense, the youth's shoulder rising and falling in telltale sign of the hand that was hardly kneading at his own plumping cock.

Caliborn only debates for a moment whether to let it continue before coming to the conclusion that no. The little fuck could suffer. "Hands up. No touching." The man barks, and Dirk is quick to follow the order despite the way he pulls back a little with an unhappy whine.

"But _Cal_!" He starts to whine, lips already forming that pretty pout that had gotten him his hair gel and another night in a motel when the truck's cab would have served just as well. "Please, I can do both, you know I -"

A sharp jerk to those blonde locks cuts the teen's protests off with a sharp hiss, back arching as Dirk bites back a far less unhappy noise. "The fuck. Did I just say?" Caliborn growls, low and sharp, and the boy just _shudders_ , nodding as best he can with the tight grip on his hair. He offers no more trouble as he's pushed right back to what he was doing, and the bigger man quickly rewards him with the rustle of his belt and the shift of cloth on cloth as he shoves pants and boxers down just enough.

"God, I love your cock..." The words are a mere whisper, but the bathroom is quiet except for the soft breathing of the two men and their actions. Slow, worshipful kisses are pressed from base to tip along the thick heft of Caliborn's shaft, pale lashes fluttering against high cheekbones. Dirk's tongue is pink and soft as he flicks it over the tip, teasing, before pressing one more coy kiss to the slit, clearly egging on the man's frustration by now.

And Caliborn... Well. He's only too happy to deliver. His free hand reaches down, slips a thumb between those plump pink lips to lever the boy's jaw open - and then, without preamble, slips his cock in as well. There's not a hint of teeth to be found, just soft lips and softer tongue sliding down his dick as Dirk takes him as perfect as the first time. Sunset eyes close briefly in concentration once he hits the halfway point, working the rest of the way down more slowly - and Cal lets him, for now, hand sliding to the back of the youth's neck as his thumb pets the soft spot just beneath his ear.

In most things, Dirk keeps himself apart, or holds himself back. In this, the kid abandons all attempts at hiding just how much he liked this - being on his knees in the middle of a shitty bathroom, lips wrapped tight around some demanding asshole's cock. Amber eyes are bright and needy, desperate for attention and approval as he works his way down, relaxing his throat for the bulk of Caliborn's massive dick to slide further, and this time it's Cal that groans, deep and heady, at the pleasure.

Now that the boy is moving easier, Caliborn doesn't waste time. His hand comes back up, pets briefly through those pale strands before gripping tight again - holding Dirk still as his hips begin to move. Slow at first, shallow, he thrusts into the teen's mouth, his throat, feeling the tight muscles contract sharply, watching as the pretty blonde fights with himself to keep from gagging, determined to keep still and obedient, the perfect little slut.

"Fuck." It's ground out between gritted teeth, Cal's dark cheeks showing a little red at just how much that sight got to him. He watches with hungry eyes, noting the way Dirk's fingers twitched against his thighs with the urge to touch himself - but ever the good boy, he doesn't. The man's hips jerk, and Caliborn knows he's close, closer than he'd like. But it's a public bathroom and he doesn't particularly want to get slapped with a public indecency fine. Especially not when he still isn't entirely sure how old Dirk is.

One last glance at those horribly gorgeous, sunset eyes and he's gone. Dirk swallows around him, suckles at his cock with obvious appreciation, swallowing every last drop and even giving Cal's softening cock a few last licks for good measure before sitting back on his heels. No doubt he'd look just as smug as fucking usual, if not for the rather painful-looking bulge in his tight little jeans. The kid shifts, whines low in his throat, and goddamn if it isn't the prettiest little noise.

Kicking the boy's knees apart, Caliborn kneels in front of him, making short work of the ridiculous painted-on denim to get at the kid's cock. It's flushed up almost as bright as Dirk's cheeks, beading pre at the tip enough to leave a damp spot in the blonde's boxers, but he'd just have to deal with that. It's his own damn fault for causing a scene in the diner. Thick fingers fit around the shaft of his cock, working it quick and dirty. There's friction enough to probably hurt a bit, but the way Dirk is gasping, high and needy, he doesn't seem to mind too much.

Dirk's come hits the floor as his forehead comes to rest against Caliborn's broad shoulders, and he bites down on the clothed curve of flesh hard enough to drag a wordless snarl of surprise from the bigger man - but it keeps him quiet enough not to draw unwarranted attention. The trucker's free arm begrudgingly comes around to rest on the blonde's slender back, keeping him upright as he works through his own release. There's a sleepy smile that he can just see out of the corner of his eyes, and he gruffly does his best to ignore it, patting awkwardly at the kid's back.

"Dirk." He pauses, hesitating just long enough to make the kid raise his head in question - and whatever he was about to say is abandoned in favor of kissing those soft lips, despite the gross taste that lingered in the youth's mouth. Dirk, for his part, doesn't seem to mind, all but melting against Caliborn with a happy little hum, loose and relaxed in a way he didn't often show. Whatever fears he'd had earlier seemed to have been put on a back burner.

Carefully shifting the boy over to lean against the wall, Caliborn helps him back into his pants again, buttoning them up as they pass slow, lingering kisses between the two of them. Someone's knocked twice on the door already, and they're probably about at the limit of what they can get away with... So, with one last kiss, the bigger man pulls away to wash his hands - because no way was he walking out there with jizz on him. "Meet you in the truck." He offers, waiting until Dirk sighs out an agreement before heading out.

The kid slips into the passenger seat maybe five minutes later, obviously recovered from his afterglow and looking distinctly embarrassed. "You realize the workers have to clean that up, right?" He hisses out, refusing to look right at Caliborn. "Somebody's going to be traumatized by that shit."

"Good."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Construct Criticism always welcome.
> 
> May or may not expand on this 'verse. I've got ideas, but I'm hesitant to flesh them out...


End file.
